


Phase

by chess_boxing



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overstimulation, Platonic Cuddling, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chess_boxing/pseuds/chess_boxing
Summary: Josh imagined this weirder than it is.





	1. Chapter 1

It begins when sharing becomes their last and increasingly attractive option.

“Oh my gosh, you’re like a _furnace_ ,” Tyler hisses, shivering so violently in the frozen space in the back of the van that the words are only just this side of comprehensible. Josh groans and frowns without bothering to open his eyes in the dark, his entire head filling up with _why did I offer,_ and lowers his raised arm to scoop the smaller man closer on the sagging mattress.

A term which – he thinks, sleepily – is just _not true_ , by the way, _or fair,_ because Tyler’s _undeniably freaking taller,_ and Josh himself has a body fat percentage of maybe less than zero _–_ and yet it’s just universally accepted _fact_ that Tyler is the smaller one. Because – he just _is_. Josh’s hands track down Tyler’s back to pull him close as possible, palms flat, and then he scoots them down to burrow between the layers of Tyler’s undershirt and multiple sweatshirts.

“ _Wh_ ,” Tyler squirms, breathing hot against Josh’s neck.

“Nn,” he answers.

Though the heat radiating from the small of Tyler’s back is bringing back feeling to the tips of Josh’s fingers, the _apparently smaller man_ continues trembling, his limbs digging painfully into Josh’s sides in search of warmth.

It's totally because he comes off fragile - soft on the outside, hard on the inside, where Josh can only ever imagine being the other way around. Yeah, that’s why he’s smaller.

As Tyler shivers out a long sigh, Josh feels that recently-familiar tide of fondness swell up in his chest, because this – _this_ – is something he can do. God, it hurts, semi-waking half a dozen times a night to the rustling of bedsheets, or the shaking of slim shoulders – or sometimes, _worse,_ the too-still tension of a body laying taut and uncomfortable, breath held, movement suspended for Josh’s sake. He can't reach into the pit that claims Tyler on those nights. He’s tried, _damn it,_ he’s _tried._ No, the best he can do those nights is distract. It's something, but it hurts knowing he barely even qualifies as a bandaid.

 _This,_ though. Josh tucks Tyler’s dumb, delicate little frame as tight to himself as he can, the top of his head fitting just beneath his chin, so that Tyler’s gotta curl up a little to keep their legs tangled. He is cold and Josh is warm, and tonight, he's everything he needs. He can be everything.

It turns out that Tyler’s an _aggressive_ cuddler. He buries his nose into the heat of Josh’s neck and rubs back and forth against the comfort he finds there, nudging again and again against his pulse point, slim piano fingers curling around the strings trailing from Josh’s hoodie to snare him closer. Josh spreads out his broader shoulders to dwarf Tyler’s, like he can coil himself even further around the little heap fidgeting against him.

He can’t lie _still_ , either, though Josh already knew that. Comfort is something Tyler chases even when he’s found it; he’s still pushing, wriggling closer just because it feels good to find that cosy niche against Josh’s chest again, and again, and _again_.

“Quit it,” Josh slurs into the top of Tyler’s head, pressing his mouth into his hair, _kidding._ In response, all he gets is a low groan followed by an entirely fresh surge of movement: the arching of Tyler’s spine as he stretches out like a cat; a nose nuzzling against his neck; the graze of stubble across his collarbone.

There’s not an _inch_ between them. Josh’s hands rub friction-heat up and down the sensitive planes of Tyler’s sides, eliciting a noise that literally can’t be described as anything other than a purr. It vibrates through their chests and settles into their bones, which are just warming enough to begin to feel heavy again.

They’re parked beneath a streetlight in a parking lot which throws orange light through the back windows; a compromise, somewhere between sleeping with their little battery-powered lamp on and sleeping with it off. The clouds are beginning to lighten; they should’ve done this hours ago. Josh sleepily watches the weaving shadows of moths and listens to the cicadas mingle with slowing breathing.

When Tyler’s muscles have gone completely limp and heavy – and the breaths have turned to soft snores – Josh cranes his neck and peers down past the black shape of Tyler’s hood. The light paints him shades of orange, with soft brown shadows beneath his eyelashes. Josh thinks he’s never seen him look so content. Josh thinks it’s infectious.

Josh thinks this is going to become a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write some lame self-indulgent stuff while my brain's too fried to work on anything more substantial. There's totally porn to come because. it's uh. me. I'll update rating and tags whenever the hell we get there!! you kids be cool |-/


	2. Chapter 2

After that, sharing becomes automatic.

“I, uh, can’t roll,” Josh says, and Tyler lapses into a whole new wave of giggles, covering his face with both hands and collapsing back into the side of the van. He hits it so hard that the lantern dangling above them sways, throwing the dim light from side to side in the dark.

“I can’t - believe - I can't believe us,” he splutters out. “We’re the worst - the _lamest-”_

“What, you can’t either?!”

 _“No-of-course-I-don't-know-how-to-roll-a-joint,”_ Tyler near enough shrieks, and Josh loses it too, doubling over the little heap gathered on the bedsheets between them - a lighter, some papers, a few filters and what Josh can semi-confidently confirm is about an eighth. “Josh - _Josh-”_

“I’m so freaking glad there’s no one else here to witness this-”

“I can’t _breathe_ _Josh_ -”

They lean into one another, their shoulder-to-shoulder laughter so hard that it’s reduced to gasping. Tyler scoops up a paper and a filter between thumbs and forefingers. “C’mon,” he chokes, “come on, we - we _got_ this _,_ man. We’re - like - _street_ -”

That’s it, Josh is in hysterics against the side of the van again, and Tyler’s eyes blur with tears as he prises open the tiny bag and tips a total guesswork quantity of green flecks into the crease of the paper. It’s a gift from a fan after that night’s show - not their thing, but they’ve never refused anything before, and they're sure as hell not starting tonight. He prods the dry little clumps into place, remembers the filter, and then there’s weed scattered over the knees of his jeans and Josh is yelling and now he’s laughing too hard to keep his eyes open anyway.

“Give that here,” Josh demands, brushing the weed into a new paper and batting away Tyler’s fingers when they prod closer. “I’m – hey. _Hey!_ You – _sit in the corner, Tyler,_ ” he orders loudly, and Tyler rolls away sideways to curl up on the mattress, giggling, foetal.

The second attempt’s a bit shit but the third’s passable, and Josh kicks open the back doors from the inside before flicking the lighter to life. Tyler’s sprawled, watching, the ghost of his giggling fit lifting the corners of his lips.

“I’m happy that we’re so uncool,” he says, as Josh breathes in sweet clouds and suppresses a coughing fit.

“Uh, same,” he answers hoarsely, exhaling. “Oh, shit. Here.”

Tyler wriggles over on his stomach, takes a hit, and immediately chokes it straight back out.

“ _How_ did you even-? Ty, sit up. _Ty_ ,” Josh laughs, pushing at his elbow. “Sit up here with me.”

Between coughs and giggles, Tyler climbs up to sit beside Josh at the back of the van, the doors wide open to where the dark, empty road stretches away like spilt ribbon between vast, flat fields. Their legs swing back and forth off the edge and they go quiet for a while, watching orange-lit ash flutter down to the tarmac. The joint is shared, hands deftly curling around one another to offer it back and forth. It crackles faintly between lips at each inhale, and the night air leads each smoky breath sideways the second that it’s released, dragging a pale, straight streak against the dark sky.

“I wanna lie in the road,” Tyler announces, suddenly.

Josh gives it consideration, his gaze tracking back and forth along the deserted strip for a moment. No cars; not all night. Bright moonlight. Open horizons. Stars.

“Okay.”

Tyler shuffles his butt gracelessly off the van bed, staggering slightly, and flops out onto his back - death-drop - so that his spine lines right up with one of the yellow painted lines. Josh follows him out - slow, steady, with a permanent, vague smile. The air’s still but fresh, and every dark breath of it feels good.

Taking the offered joint back and rolling it lazily between thumb and forefinger, Tyler’s body feels dense, like he can't stop falling down into the tarmac. There are so many _stars,_ the moon brilliant enough to haze them out behind an aurora. He blocks another swathe of them when he breathes out. Letting his head drop to the side, Tyler turns to see Josh watching him.

“Hm?”

“What?” Josh asks. Playful eyes.

“D’you say something?”

“No.”

Tyler's eyes narrow and a little laugh bursts out as he physically _places_ the joint between Josh’s lips, his fingers uncooperative and gentle as they tumble down Josh’s cheek. The backs of them trail against rough skin while Josh smokes.

“You’re so… like…”

The words slide out of his mouth and Tyler goes quiet, his fingers dragging from Josh’s cheek to his neck. Chocolate eyes watch him, low-lidded, blinking slow and deep. The elegant slopes of neck muscles stand out beneath his fingertips in thick, slender columns from the angle of Josh’s head against the tarmac; Tyler traces them in halting, gentle strokes until he meets fabric, his palm flattening out in the centre of Josh’s chest and gently pressing down in search of the feeling of lungs pressing back. They twitch when his breath hitches, and Tyler meets Josh’s gaze as he lets his hand trail lower. The sharp ridge of his lower ribs gives way to a gentle dip before the firm, flat planes of his stomach and the muscles flanking it. They quiver slightly against the skin of Tyler’s palm, hot and taut.

“So what?”

“Huh?”

Josh’s eyes crinkle with a slow, slow grin.

“I’m so… what?”

Tyler grins back, his palm absorbing the faint quivering of laughter in Josh’s stomach.

“Like. _Hard…_ ”

Josh properly laughs, the way Tyler loves, throwing his head so it tilts way back, his dark hair wildly splayed against the cold ground and his throat bared to the stars above. Tyler watches and smiles so hard that it hurts.

Between Josh’s lazy, curled fingers, the joint meets his lips again and he lets his head fall sideways to watch Tyler back as he draws it up into his lungs. It’s while that smoke is soaking into his chest that Tyler feels the impulse come to him - slow, and _sure_ , like something floating to the surface from somewhere very deep and blue, rather than the snap-switch of a lightbulb. His eyes linger heavily on Josh’s lazily parted lips. Tyler tilts his head; leans closer.

He just _tentatively_ brushes Josh with his own mouth, letting his lips drop open slightly. The muscles in Josh’s stomach stutter - Tyler feels it through his hand, where his palm’s still pressed flat - but then Josh opens his mouth around the beginnings of a smile, sealing their mouths together, and exhales with the tips of his fingers just grazing Tyler’s jawline.

Initially, Tyler’s just in that haze of curiously managing a new sensation - how to breathe, how it _tastes_ when somebody else’s lungs rush a breath into your own - and Tyler’s eyes flutter closed, drinking, _drinking deep._ His mind goes dense and soft, warping like cotton wool in water. Josh’s mouth presses sweetly and firmly. Solid. It’s _dizzying_. It occurs to Tyler that the smoke inside of him right now - in his _chest,_ his _insides_ \- was just in _Josh’s_ chest, in _Josh’s_ insides, and that lungs pass chemicals from blood to air, and that _somehow,_ on _some_ molecular level, Josh is in his blood now, in his _brain_ , like flecks of dust catching sunlight in seawater. He lets go to exhale with his mind saturated. Gasoline.

“Good?” Josh asks, smoke-husky.

He nods, eyes closing as the delicate pressure of Josh’s fingers at his neck stroke lower, copycat. His spine is singing. His body’s hypersensitive, skin flooding with sparks beneath his clothes as Josh’s hand tentatively maps it out, straying as low as the sharp, pale curve where Tyler’s hipbone peeks from his clothing. The skin’s so thin and fragile there; Josh’s thumb trails back and forth against it for a moment, and when he starts tracing a series of long, deliberate, even, horizontal lines across his stomach, Tyler feels it twist up with emotion. Like he’s going to burst into happy tears, right here, lying on his back at half three in the morning in the centre of a Tennessee back road.

He reaches for the joint and takes a long, deep drag. He wants to share again. He wants to share forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey i hope the seasonal depression shows you mercy this week


	3. Chapter 3

Boundaries melt like dominoes.

“Sure I would,” Tyler says beneath his breath, a sly half-smile adding just enough quirk to mask his hammering heartbeat. “Sometime.”

“Yeah?”

 _Shut up, dude_ , Tyler wants to shoot back, but instead he just does this ridiculously self-conscious giggle and ducks his head, because Josh isn’t teasing. It’d be easier if he was, but instead, “I could get on board with that,” Josh murmurs, low, and with just a little too much weight behind it for ease. He doesn’t look at Tyler as he says it; he keeps his eyes right up, scanning the shelves of the stall front that they’ve somehow wandered past – a corner of the London market inexplicably scattered with sex and erotica stores. He doesn’t even dare let his gaze stray to the plug Tyler had been eyeing as he’d spoken. The surreal, snatched exchange is deliberately quietened, sneaked amongst the giggling fits of the friends to their left and right, whose outstretched fingers ridicule bizarre BDSM masks and dildos shaped like vegetables. It’s a strange moment, and though it lingers on the mind - like fingers idly trailing along black lace edges as they move along to the next stall - it passes.

 

|-/

 

The next time they do that - share a strange, stolen moment - Tyler’s in a shower, where “ _oh man - dude – shit – sorry,”_ switches without warning to “oh, hey,” and down goes another domino.

Tyler’s eyes fly open behind the tumbling water to meet a wide-open, easy look from Josh.

“What's up,” Josh repeats himself, and opens up the misted mirror-cabinet over the basin. His fingertips leave little windows in the fog.

“Uh, just - taking a shower, man.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure am.” Tyler nibbles his lower lip around an affectionate but semi-weirded-out smile as he turns half-away, faces the shelving, and gets real invested in the ingredients on a soap bottle. “Just a good ol’ shower. Getting clean.”

Josh knocks something heavy-sounding down; he makes a little strangled noise of surprise and catches it in cupped hands against his chest.

“Whew. Close.” He’s grinning when he looks up. “Yo, that bruise? It looks way better.”

Tyler turns back at that, his fingers automatically flying to his hip - where the black blossoms are just a shadowy smear now - and he’s about to be, like, _yeah, it’s, like, totally cleared up,_ but something tightens up his throat and their eye contact catches, heavier than expected. Tyler can see the moment that it hits Josh, too. It’s not K-drama-intense; just a hazy weight to the atmosphere that hangs between them like shower steam.

“Much better,” he murmurs, and his fingers trace the warm, water-glossy slope of his hip when Josh looks away.

 

|-/

 

The next time that Tyler catches Josh pre-show-hyperventilating into his hands it’s backstage, in a disabled toilet, and a dull rattle shudders through the walls from the guys soundchecking beyond them. Black streaks paint the backs of Josh’s fingers as Tyler gently covers them with his own. When Josh lowers his hands enough to look back up at him, the face behind them is lost, anxiety-pale, and Tyler kisses him without a word, his mouth pressing with a tenderness and warmth that firmly, fearlessly skirts the fringes of platonic. Josh comes down with his forehead buried in the soft, sharp curve where Tyler’s jaw meets his neck, and he comes away smiling and stained.

 

|-/

 

Boundaries melt like dominoes, and here they are.

Josh imagined this weirder than it is.

The curious, delving movements of his fingers going _inside_ reduce Tyler’s words to soft, shocked sounds that keep halting before he’s done making them. His insides are velvet - a hot, sleek, silky place - and Josh’s dick twitches heavily, visibly stirring in his boxers, but that’s not the deal tonight. He’s here to help; to share. To take advantage of hotel bedsheets and ensuites. To ease Tyler through too-warm, breathless exploration.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and Tyler hums, unsteadily. “Are you okay? Wanna slow down?”

“No,” Tyler answers. He means it to come out belligerent. It doesn't.

“Sure?”

“Sure - can we just, like,” Tyler begins, and then shifts them, pushing Josh into a kneeling position and climbing on top – like he’s in control – and then he shifts his weight until he’s comfortable.

“Closer,” Josh observes. His tongue’s heavy in his mouth.

“Don’t make it weird, dude.”

A burst of low laughter tightens all the shapes of Josh’s chest. With his eyes on Tyler’s lips for no reason other than that they’re at the right height, he blindly traces his fingertips down the line of Tyler’s spine - lower, lower, and then deeper, _deeper -_ and then Josh is moving in a steady, slow rhythm again, and Tyler’s cursing softly, eyes unfocused.

“How are you _doing that_. How are you – _yeah,_ Josh, there, _there-there-there-_ ”

Josh can feel a restless coiling and uncoiling in the pit of his stomach at the long, grateful whine that follows, his fingers assaulting whatever pleasure centre he’s found inside Tyler. He works over the sensitive channel until it's too weak and lube-slicked to do anything more than _accept,_ trembling to comply when Josh just barely touches the plastic tip of the plug to its opening. He rubs the rounded point in little circles, moves back and forth once or twice. The first time he tries to push it up into his body, Tyler lets out a high, anxious yelp and sits up sharply.

“ _Shit -_ hey,” Josh pales, completely dropping the toy to smooth his hands across the sudden tension in Tyler’s chest, his shoulders, his back. “Hey. Are you okay? I’m sorry, oh my God-“

“It’s cool,” Tyler says, exhaling steadily, “sorry, sorry, it’s cool.”

“You – are you sure?”

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know,” he half-laughs-half-gasps, feeling a flush climb his skin as he settles back down into Josh’s lap. He can feel wide, concerned eyes flitting over his face. Cautious handspans trace broad strokes up and down the tense heat in his lower back. “I just freaked. Can you… slower?”

He does. In the pale-pink tangle at the nape of Josh’s neck, Tyler’s fingertips curl from the feeling of that first inch opening him up. Josh places his palm over the base of the plug and presses, firm and flat, until it starts to gradually shift deeper, Tyler’s insides slowly parting for it.

“Nnnn- oh, _God_ , _Josh_ -”

He pushes his forehead into Josh’s shoulder and bites his lip, fingers trembling where they cling at the back of Josh’s neck. He can feel it sinking inside, its thick, unyielding pressure so strange after the delicate, slim massaging of Josh’s fingers. Just as he can feel his body struggling to accept it, Josh gives one last, firm push and Tyler feels a sudden shift as the plug is buried snugly inside. A soft, high mewl bursts from his lips - Josh strokes him; holds him; hushes each quiet, fragile sound as he adjusts.

“Okay?” he asks, sounding slightly out of breath.

Tyler nods without lifting his head from Josh’s shoulder.

“Hey, Ty. Talk to me.”

“ _Jo-o-s-sh,”_ is all he answers - like the word has four syllables - hiding in the solid heat of Josh’s neck because he can't keep the guilty, shocked delight from his face, and he’s shy about it; shy about the flush on his cheeks, shy about the tension in his forehead, shy about the desperate shape of his mouth. Pleasure-stressed. He tentatively tightens up his muscles around the toy and sinks a bite into his lower lip, hard, because it won't _budge_ , because he’s _stuffed._

“Wanna lay down,” he says, so Josh cradles his shoulders, does just that.

“Is it okay if I jerk off?” Tyler asks.

“I - huh?”

“Like, would that be weird?”

“What the – Ty, I just had my _fingers_ -“

“I know! I know, I – sorry,” he laughs, draping one slim wrist across his hip. The thin bands inked around it flex as he strokes himself and he sighs, some of the tension in his body sinking out and into the bed. Josh’s hand strays low too, lazily petting his own dick as he watches Tyler work himself until his whole body squirms against the damp sheets.

“Can I-?”

“Mhmm,” Tyler nods.

Josh pulls at the base gently as he can, easing the thick bulb back out, and can't take his eyes from the way Tyler’s body struggles, stretching, before the toy slides free and his hole collapses neatly into a pretty little gape - just barely failing to close back up behind it. Inside, warm and pink, Josh can see Tyler’s muscles squeeze and quiver helplessly. He curiously touches, until he’s fingering Tyler deep and slow, and the used opening flutters weakly in response.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” Josh says, hushed.

Tyler just moans, weak from overstimulation.

“Put it back in, I wanna be - I want-”

Josh can tell how hard the words he wants are, as though they taste awkward to put together, and he pulls away without waiting for Tyler to manage a full-stop. This time the plug goes in way easier, punching out an obscene groan that twists upward, getting higher as Tyler’s fists tangle in the sheets, and when Josh pulls the toy out and all the way back in, it’s a little wail. He does it again - one steady, swift fuck, in and out - and he notices the light catching little smears of fluid on Tyler’s abdomen. There’s the tiniest string of it still clinging to his cockhead; it breaks, but even as Josh watches, another pearl swells at the tip of his dick. Tyler’s _leaking_.

“Ty,” he breathes out.

Tyler’s eyes open dark and hungry, the colour high in his cheeks. “Yeah?” he says shakily. Half-stammering, the way that being too cold makes your words shiver and catch up in your breath.

“You’re so hot, Tyler,” he says, because boundaries are dominoes, and he wraps his hand around Tyler’s cock. “You look _so hot_. I’m like, dying here.”

“Oh God,” he gasps, head tossing to one side as Josh steadily jerks him off. “Not like you. I’d let you fuck me, Josh. Like. _In_ me.”

Josh’s body floods with heat. “Yeah?”

“Want it," he nods, flushing, "Really want it, Josh.”

“Wow. _Desperate_ ,” Josh tells him, his teeth sharp and playful, his voice rough velvet.

“I’ll kill you,” Tyler pants. “I will. Literally. Actually, kidding – wow, that’s so mean-”

Josh slaps once at the base of the plug, hard enough to jolt through him, and he means it like he’s teasing but Tyler _sobs._

“ _Ohmygod, yes – Josh-”_

“Oh, fuck, you like that?”

“It's so much, Josh, I - _harder-_ ”

Josh does it again, landing a careful but firm hit on the silicone base - like he’s giving him a heavy spanking - and Tyler wails into the palm of his hand, hyperventilating, his expression pleasure-stricken.

“Shh, Ty,” Josh whispers, carding his fingers through the short, damp hair at the side of Tyler’s head. “I got you. You gonna come?”

Tyler nods frantically, eyes shining like he might cry, and then his hand scrambles for the plug and wraps tight, pushing at Josh’s fingers, _shoving,_ trying to get the thing deep as his insides will allow. As he drives the heel of his hand into the base of the toy, one of his cries cuts out and his body reels sharply against the mattress, silent-scream, choked-up.

“That’s it,” Josh soothes him. His knuckles are turning white from the force of Tyler physically driving his orgasm into himself and his other hand’s wet, but he doesn’t notice. This is something he’s trying to memorise.

“ _Yeah,_ ” Tyler moans, still utterly lost, his spine a sharp arc that rises from the mattress. A shudder later, the angles of his body soften, sinking, boneless.

“Yeah? Good?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, wrecked and bliss-clouded, though he manages to giggle stupidly when their eyes meet. Josh thinks he looks good like this. In his own skin, and unmistakably at home within it.

“I need to jerk off immediately,” he breathes.

“Come here,” Tyler slurs, struggling up to his elbow and reaching out. “C’mon, let me help.”

“Like – you wanna?”

“Yeah. Kinda wanna blow you but I’m exhausted. Sometime though. Pinkie promise.”

Josh laughs shakily, desperate to the point of trembling by the time Tyler can scoop him into his arms. He’s aware of Tyler watching his face intently the entire time – occasionally pushing stray, damp locks of hair away from his forehead – and it should be distracting, but Josh is _gone_. He just gasps and shivers as he gets off, hips pushing mindlessly into Tyler’s hand, boxers only halfway down his thighs, and when he comes then it’s with a single soft, relieved groan.

The next thing they share is a shower.

The thing after that is a pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you've all been okay through this Shit week! i'm and-so-are-you on tumblr if anyone needs to talk, i know it's been a nightmare for mental health. sending hugs to all of you who like hugs; cool finger-guns to everyone else. xx


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